The White Devil
by Miz. Jynx
Summary: The Joker escapes Arkham and shows up at Bruce Waynes door. But what happens when the Joker can't remember who he is or how he got there? Maybe there's more to it than a slight case of amnesia? Slash
1. Grease Paint Gone

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT! **

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, ****and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 1**

Another puddle. Another wave of water from below him washing away already smudged grease paint, the green hair dye had long ago washed out due to the prolonged water exposure. His breaths came out in short needy gasps. Sirens and alarms wailed behind him, a tall building becoming steadily smaller in the distance. Rain poured harder from the night sky, the carrot orange jumpsuit doing little to protect against the icy cold raindrops that bit at his skin and obscured his vision. Steel cuffs rubbed away at exposed skin making his wrists bleed a deep carmine. A combination of running for so long and constantly tripping made his legs burn and protest against him, threatening to give out at any moment.

He looked behind him and saw the blue and red lights had faded in the distance. His foot caught something and he stumbled. Cursing his clumsiness he quickly righted himself and picked up his pace, turning towards the large mansion looming over head.

Throwing himself against the large double doors, he managed to slap one hand against the doorbell, silently hoping for someone to be home.

Exhaustion finally caught up with him just as the door opened. "Please…" he whispered as he fell to his knees, his voice tired and pleading.

"Oh…oh my…Master Wayne, you might want to get down here!" that was the last thing he heard before the exhaustion forced him to close his eyes; his head colliding with the ground, "Quickly!" darkness consuming him.

* * *

**Bruce's POV**

I wrapped the fluffy towel firmly around my waist and rushed downstairs to the front door were Alfred stood dragging a limp form into the house. Alfred looked at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted your shower sir, but we might have a bit of a problem on our hands." he gestured to the orange clad body that was currently soaking up the carpet with more than just water.

"He's bleeding…wait, who is he?" Walking over to the still form, I turned the man on his back and froze. "Oh shit. What's **he** doing here? I saw him get locked away **I** put him in Arkham, how the hell did he escape!?" My voice steadily rose from a shocked whisper to almost yells.

The English butler said nothing.

"How long ago did he get here? Did he say any thing before collapsing? Why is he bleeding?" I started a panicked onslaught of questions while dragging the limp form in to the living room and on to the couch.

"Please master Wayne calm down. Now, in that order: I don't know what he's doing here, I don't know how he escaped, he got here about five minutes ago, and yes he did say something. I believe it was 'Please'. As for why he is bleeding, I would think it's either those rather uncomfortable looking cuffs or that rather large gash on his head." he said pointing to said gash. "Maybe both…" He added as a side thought.

To caught up with who he was I failed to notice the bloody, rather deep gash on the mans forehead. My eyes trailed down to his lips and I lightly brushed my hand over the scars that cut through the barely breathing mans cheeks, awing at how they stuck out so blatantly against rapidly paling skin.

"I suppose we can ask him that later…he obviously knows who I am, why else would he come here of all places?" I said knowingly. "Well take him to the bat cave and get him fixed up. Then I can beat some answers out of him." I growled half serious.

* * *

**Normal POV**

Bruce watched the slow rise and fall of the mans chest. Alfred had bandaged his wounds and stitched up the bloody gash. Hearing foot steps behind him, Bruce turned in his seat next to the makeshift hospital bed to see a worried looking English butler with a phone in his hand. "Master Wayne, do you wish for me to alert the police?" he questioned.

"No"

"But surely you don't intend to keep him here?" he pressed.

"You don't get it Alfred, he knows. If we send him back to Arkham he could tell every one their who Batman really is. Maybe not the patients but the staff; guards, counselors, visitors." The billionaire explained with a frustrated look.

"Pardon me sir but, who would believe him? They would most likely think of it as ramblings of an insane man."

"It only takes one."

Bruce turned towards the sleeping figure. "Damn it Joker, you know just what to do to ruin my day."

"Lets just hope he stays sleeping." Alfred chimed in.

The Joker was never the one to listen to what people told him, so, as an subconscious act of defiance, he started to rouse. A couple of incoherent sounds escaped his mouth.

Bruce jumped out of his seat, expecting the Joker to suddenly lash out at him. Alfred simply backed up a few steps, gripping the phone tighter.

Slowly, the Jokers eyes fluttered open and he groaned uncomfortably, arching his back off the makeshift bed.

Bruce noticed the slight rise of the Jokers hips and blushed, but quickly shook it off as it being to hot in the bat cave. He made a mental note to turn the heat down later.

"Alfred, go up to the mansion." Bruce commanded.

"Are you sure you want me to leave you with this…criminal?" Alfred glared at the slowly waking man in front of them.

"I'll be fine." Bruce assured.

The Englishman seemed doubtful but other wise turned and left, leaving Bruce alone with the slowly waking man.

The Joker gave his surroundings a quick once over and immediately realized he was not in his cell. He turned towards Bruce, giving him a questioning look. "Who-"

"What are you doing here?" Bruce cut off.

"Uhhh…that's a good question." The Joker tried to sit up but gave up immediately after a sharp pain rang through his head. Groaning, he turned to look at Bruce once more. "And ah, who exactly are **you**?"

"Don't play dumb, clown!" Bruce slammed his fist on the nearest table, knocking over a few medical supplies in the process.

"Whoa whoa calm down their pretty boy! I didn't do nothin'!" The Joker said raising his hands in defense. It was then that he noticed his wrists were bandaged up. "Jeez what happened to me?" A look of pure confusion appeared on his face.

Bruce calmed himself and took a minute to look at the Joker who was taking his time looking over his injuries. _How could he not remember something that probably happened less than a half an hour ago? _"Hey you!" Bruce half shouted. The Joker snapped out of his confused trance to look back at Bruce. "Hm?"

Bruce took a deep breath. _Oh god I hope I'm wrong. _"Do you know who you are?" Bruce asked slowly.

The Joker laid there, an indescribable look on his face. Finally, he answered.

"No."

* * *

**AUTHORSNOTES**

Woot! First chapter down! **Okay this is my first Bruce/Joker slash so there will be absolutely no smut! **

Trust me, if I were to write smut, the world would stop spinning just to look at me and say _'What the hell was THAT!?'_

For those of you who don't know, **Carmine is the term for a particularly deep red color** and I just love using it in place of 'crimson' or 'deep red'.

Please _**REVIEW**_ and if your into torture, check out my other 'The Dark Knight' stories on my profile!

_Ba-Byz!_


	2. Suits and Scars

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT! **

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 2**

Bruce sat in his study nibbling carelessly on his pinky nail as a bright screen flashed before him. His mind was buzzing with all the possible out comes that a completely oblivious Joker could bring. All except one which whenever it popped up, he would push back into the farthest corners of his mind. He had been watching the Joker pace around the room for a little under four hours, waiting for the makeup less clown to do something that would indicate him lying about his memory loss. Nothing yet. Bruce was on edge, stressed and wound so tight he was sure he would spring through the roof if something happened.

The door opened and Alfred walked in, phone in hand. "Master Wayne? I-" he was cut off by Bruce literally jumping out of his seat. "Huh? What? Alfred!" Bruce turned to face said butler who had a disturbed look upon him. "Err…ahem…I just came to tell you that your guests will be arriving soon and you should probably get dressed but, maybe you should lie down instead. You look rather tense." Alfred walked over and put a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "It's the Joker, isn't it sir?"

"Yeah, he's been pacing around that room for hours now. A couple of times he even sat in the corner and rocked with his head in his arms but that's it." Bruce looked towards the flickering screen to see the Joker had returned to rocking in the corner.

"Well sir, you have kept him in their for quite a while. If he's truly lost his memories then I would imagine he would be quite scared." The English butler removed his hand from Bruce's person and set down the phone.

"Why would he be scared? Theirs nothing scary about that room." Bruce commented with a look of confusion.

Alfred sighed and shook his head. "You can be quite the oblivious one sir. Just put yourself in his shoes so to speak. Cuts and bruises you don't remember getting, waking up in a strange room with an angry man asking you unanswerable questions, locked in a room for four hours with no one telling you anything, and to top it all off being half naked with a splitting headache in a small room with beeping machines and sharp instruments. Don't you think that would be just a little nerve-racking?" He asked with a questioning look.

Bruce furrowed his brows. Slowly, realization dawned on him. "Oh my god your right…Gah! I'll be right back!" Bruce ran out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Don't forget to get dressed!" Alfred called after him. He brought his hands up to rub his temples. "Sometimes I wonder how that boy would get up every morning if I were not their to wake him…" He said to himself.

* * *

**With The Joker**

He had been pacing around the room for hours now and he was sure he was slowly going insane. (A/N Ironic huh?) _Oh my god the air is getting thinner! _He sat in the corner and rocked back and forth which had calmed him before, just not now. _There's no clock, where's that light coming from? My head hurts…walls…closing in on me. I can't breath! _He started hyperventilating and curled up in a ball on the floor, never ceasing the rocking motion. He had rubbed the puffed marks on his cheeks occasionally and wished their was a mirror in the small room so he could find out what in the world they could be.

He clenched his eyes shut in hopes of keeping threatening tears from falling. _Where the hell am I? Who am I? Who was that man who kept asking me questions? Maybe he's from the place with the white rooms and bars…? _He stopped rocking and is breath hitched when he heard approaching foot steps, hoping whoever it was would go away and at the same time wishing they would let him out. He heard the door open and peeked one eye open. Upon seeing who it was he immediately shut it, letting restrained tears fall and proceeded his rocking.

Bruce found the Joker sobbing on the floor of the small medical room and immediately cursed his stupid ness. He carefully stepped towards the frightened man and bent down to his level; his knees on the floor and abused pinky nail in his mouth. "Joker?" Bruce hesitantly reached out and put a soothing hand on his shaking shoulder. "Joker…are you okay?"

The fearful man peaked one red rimmed eye open and stared at Bruce. "W-who's Joker?"

Bruce sighed. _This is gonna take a while…_ "You are, well, that what you call yourself."

The man sniffed. "That's dumb."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh at that. He smiled and brushed a lose strand of brown-blonde hair out of the mans face. _What the hell am I doing? He's my enemy! I should be throwing him in the nearest cell! _"I know. Well…what do you want to be called?" _Damn-it!_

The man wiped off his eyes and uncurled himself a bit, thinking of what his name should be. _Something strong, something clever…something that defines __**me**__._

"Jack." He put simply, pushing himself off the floor and into a sitting position.

_Jack…_Bruce stared and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the ma- Jack.

"Who are you?" Jack asked with a slight tilt of his head.

_Sorta like a puppy…_ "My names Bruce. I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I shouldn't have." Bruce answered truthfully.

"S'okay. One thing's been bugging me though, why'd ya call me 'clown'?"

_Oooo…_ "Sorry about that too. I was kinda…confused."

Jack shrugged and looked downward. "S'okay I guess. Just, promise me you wont leave me in here again. I don't like small spaces."

"Sorry, I promise." There was a small pause that was interrupted only by Alfred.

"Master Wayne, your guests have arrived. Are you dressed?" Alfred called from somewhere outside the room.

"Aw crap, the party!" Bruce exclaimed.

"What party?" Jack watched as Bruce got up and rushed to the door.

"Stay here, I'll be back in a while." Bruce was ready to close the door when he suddenly felt something grab and yank at his leg. He looked down and his dark brown eyes met pleading green ones.

"Wait! Please, d-don't leave me in here again! Y-you promised!" Jack whimpered.

_That's right, I did promise. Damn and it was just a few seconds ago, how did I forget?! _Bruce reached down and grasped Jacks wrist. "Let go." he commanded.

"B-but-" He was cut off.

"Your coming with me." Bruce smiled.

Jack stared and finally smiled back, pushing himself off the floor with a little help from Bruce. He blushed when he realized he was standing next to someone he just met with only his boxers on.

Bruce chuckled at the almost unnoticeable blush and released Jacks wrist in favor of his hand. "Come on, I'll get you something to wear." _I'm holding his hand, I must be insane! _

Walking out of the room and taking the elevator to the mansion Bruce couldn't help but wonder what would happen if they couldn't get the Jokers memory back. And If they did, then what? Forget this ever happened and go back to being mortal enemies? Bruce shook the thoughts out of his head. _I'll figure something out when it comes to that. _They stepped out of the elevator and was greeted by a frantic butler.

"Master Wayne, if I may ask, what took you so long and why aren't you dressed? The guests are all here!"

"Sorry Alfred, I was Just getting the Jok- Jack." Bruce pointed.

"Jack?" Alfred asked.

"Jack." Bruce answered.

"And why sir, are you holding 'Jacks' hand?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

Both men in question blushed and immediately let go of each others hand. "I'm not." Bruce answered quickly.

"Right…well I'm not going to tell you again. Your guests have arrived and I suggest you change into something more formal." Alfred eyed Bruce's choice of a blue T-shirt and Jeans. "I'll keep them busy." He then walked off to the ballroom.

"Umm?" Jack stared at Bruce.

"That was Alfred, my butler." Bruce explained while pulling Jack out the door and towards his room.

"Butler?"

"Yeah," They walked into Bruce's room and headed to the closet. "I'm rich, a billionaire actually. Here, put these on while I get dressed." Bruce handed him a T-shirt and pants then quickly changed into a suit and bow-tie. "You can go any were in the east wing but stay away from everyone except me and Alfred." Jack watched him speed walk to the door. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." Bruce then closed the door leaving Jack to himself.

"Butler? Billionaire? Hours!?" Jack repeated. This was all too much for him. He sat himself on the large bed and awed at how soft it was. He put the pants down and picked up the shirt. It was dark green in color that eventually faded into black at the bottom. Slipping it on he picked up the pants. _Knickers? _They were beige in color with many pockets. He put those on to and stood in front of the full length mirror.

_Not bad I suppose… _He stopped short when he reached his face, eyes widening. _What the…?_ He reached a shaky hand towards his face. As soon as quivering fingers touched scar tissue a sharp bolt of pain shot through his head. "AAAGGGH!" He fell to his knees and clutched his skull.

_**Flashback**_

_A fourteen year old Jack hesitantly walks down the stairs leading to the kitchen conjoining the living room. His mom and dad were fighting again and it was really bad this time. The strong and familiar scent of whisky invaded his nostrils and he fought down a gag. He made it to the bottom and peaked his head around the wall to look into the kitchen. There his father stood, gripping his mothers neck with one hand and a sharp knife with the other. He gasped and ran into the scene in time to here his mother yell "Stop! Jeffery, please stop!" "DAD! Let go of mom, please!" Jack pleaded. Jeffery let go of his wife and turned to Jack. "Why so serious?" He asked, a menacing smile on his face. "Dad?" Jack whimpered. He could vaguely hear his mom yelling franticly in the background. "__**Why so serious?**__" He stepped closer, twirling the knife in his hands and grasped Jack chin. "D-dad? Please. Stop." Tears pricked his eyes as he watched the gleaming blade being placed in his mouth. "Lets put a smile on that face!" Jeffery whispered. He brought the blade outwards and…_

_**End Flashback**_

Jack knelt shaking on the carpeted floor, his head still clutched in his hands and tears pouring from his eyes. He sat there for a while slowly coming to his senses. He wiped his eyes and gathered the courage to look back into the mirror. A series of stitches ran along his forehead and his wrists were still bandaged. His eyes were puffy and red and held a crazed look to them. Brushing a few strands of tangled hairs from his face he stood up and walked to the door, deciding it was best he cleaned up.

_What was that? What a creepy flashback, was that me? If it was then that means that crazy man was my father. But that would mean he- _He cut himself off and shook of the disturbing thought. One could only handle so much in a single day. While wandering around the halls he couldn't help but wonder how he came to be there, and soon found himself lost in the large mansion. "Crap…where the hell am I?" He spotted someone walking up ahead and ran towards them, hoping to get some directions. "Hey, hey you, wait up!" The person stopped and turned around as Jack caught up with him. He caught his breath and looked at the mysterious man.

Short dark brow hair, brown eyes, nothing special. He was wearing a tux and bow tie so Jack assumed he was from that party Bruce mentioned earlier. _Wait, what did Bruce say about the guests?_

_**Flash back**_

"_You can go anywhere in the east wing but stay away from lethal guns and dolphins."_

_**End Flashback**_

_Sounds about right._

"Hi, I'm Jack!" Jack held out his hand. The man just stared. "What?" _It must be the scars…_ "Oh…it's the scars isn't it?" He asked unsure. Suddenly the man lashed out and smacked his hand away.

"Gah! Get away from me you freak!" The man yelled.

"Hey, I'm not a-" He didn't get to finish because the man turned and ran down the hall and into large double doors Jack assumed lead to the ball room.

"Jeez, what an ass…" Jack mumbled rubbing his slapped hand. "Well, might as well go see what this big 'party' is about!" He declared to himself. He took a few steps forward then stopped. _Wait a minute…this party's all formal like. I'll stick out like a switch blade! _He blinked and started down the hall he just walked from. _That was a weird saying… _

Upon arriving to Bruce's room, he quickly ransacked the closet for another suit. "Come on, come on, rich boys gotta have another suit in here somewhere!" He threw couple of unneeded clothes over his shoulder and was vaguely aware of something breaking behind him. "No. No. NO! Yes!" Throwing on the suit he couldn't help but wonder how he was going to hide the ghastly scars that cut across his cheeks.

_He's rich. He's gotta have some cover-up or latex laying around here somewhere!_

Fixing the bow tie he speed down the hall in search of the bathroom, were he originally planned to go anyway. Some ways down he heard a flush from behind him. Jack turned and saw someone walking out of what was most likely the bathroom. _Wait, it was right next to the… _"Oh come on!" Waving his arms around in frustration he stomped back down the hallway and into the brightly lit bathroom, one door down from Bruce's room.

Jack yanked the cabinet doors open and roughly pushed things aside, making quite a mess in the process. "Okay lets see here. Mousse, gel, soap, shampoo, gel, loofah, dead bat, mouse trap, gel, air freshener, gel, gel, gel what is it with this guy and gel! What does he bath in the stuff!?"

His eyes caught something in the far right corner of the cabinet. "Yes! This is perfect!" He read the instructions and applied the latex and cover up carefully as to not miss anything. Jack gave himself a quick once over and noticed the suit was a little big on him. _Ah well… _He proceeded to sprint down the hallway and to the large double doors.

Jack giggled to himself. "Wait 'till they get a load of me!" He swung open the doors, music and laughter filling his ears. Smiling widely he stepped inside the large, brightly lit room.

* * *

**AUTHORSNOTES**

Sorry if the end seems a little rushed but I just couldn't find a way to give this chapter a smooth ending! **Sorry**! TT~TT

Any way **here's chapter 2**! Oooo what's gonna happen when Brucey finds out 'Jack' crashed the party? And what's the party for anyway? Who knows? **I do! **

**Also**, do you think I should put this in **Romance/Humor**? It seems a lot of things could happen with the Joker losing his memory and a lot could be really funny!** Please tell me in your reviews!**

Wow two flashbacks in one chapter! 83

**Please review! **I love reviews, they make my world go triangle! O.o

_**Ba-byez!**_


	3. Lizards and Lights

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT! **

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, ****and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 3**

Jack giggled childishly as he slid, unnoticed to the snack table. His grip tightened on the small thing wiggling in his pocket and he bit his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing. Looking both ways to make sure no one was watching, he pulled the squirming creature out of his pocket and dropped it in the wine filled punch bowl. He watched it swim around for a bit before sinking to the bottom.

He suppressed another giggle and carefully and indiscreetly making his way to the far corner where he had a good view of the entire room. He brushed a few lose strands of messy hair out of his face before slipping a camera out that he 'borrowed' from another guest. He held it at the ready and watched as a particularly busty woman made her way to the wine bowl.

"Deviled eggs?" asked a waiter hired for the night. Jack did a hesitant double take, not wanting to miss a thing, and hastily waved the man off. "Deviled eggs? What, murdered and still couldn't make it into heaven?" He mumbled.

Jack watched with suppressed excitement as the woman filled up her glass and went to take a sip. His odd smile widened as she pulled the glass from her lips and stared in horror into the glass. "AAAGGHH!" She screamed, dropping the glass.

He snapped a picture a broke out into cracked laughter as the woman jumped around, trying but not succeeding at getting the poor creature out of her bra. "Snake, lizard, VERMIN!" She shouted.

By now most of the party had gathered around and were either watching with mild amusement or trying to help the panicking woman.

"AhahahaHAHAHAHOOOHAHOAHHA!" Jack laughed, gripping the wall for support. A few nearby guests backed away from him, clearly disturbed.

"Please, Ms, calm down!" A familiar voice called over the screams. This just made Jack laugh harder and soon he was hunched over on the floor, one hand still on the wall and the other clenching his gut. He heard someone stomp over to him and soon he was being lifted into the air by his collar, still laughing, and forced to face a familiar pissed off glare.

They stared at each other for a short while as Jacks hysterical laughter slowly died down to the occasional giggle.

Bruce gave him an angry and disappointed look. "Get out of here. Go to my room and stay there." He let go of Jacks collar and let him scramble to his feet. Jack stared with frightful eyes but his wide grin said otherwise. Bruce grit his teeth. "Now!"

Jack giggled and ran out of the large room, going completely unnoticed by the guests. His giggles echoed throughout the empty hall way and he soon arrived at Bruce's room. He slammed the door shut and dove onto the large bed, still giggling.

It took a few minutes for his strange giggles to die down to nothing. For a while he simply laid on his back and stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to get his thought process back in order. He licked his lips and frowned. _What just happened?_

He shifted uncomfortably on the soft sheets and stood up, grabbing the forgotten khakis and changing out of the itchy suit. He laid back on the bed clad in nothing but the pants and closed his eyes. _Why did I…?_

The door slammed open and shut, causing Jack to wince but he refused to open his eyes. Angry footsteps made their way to the bed and once again Jack was yanked from his current position by his shoulder and forced to meet Bruce's hard gaze.

"What the hell was that?!" Bruce half shouted, pointing in the ball rooms general direction.

"'That' was funny." Jack replied simply, staring into Bruce's dark eyes.

Bruce growled and tightened his grip on Jacks shoulder. Jack winced, he was sure he'd have bruises in the morning. _Speaking of which, what time is it?_ He drifted off.

"Pay attention!" Bruce shouted.

Jack snapped back into reality and looked at Bruce frightfully. "How much?" _Damn it mouth, stop talking!_

Bruce growled threateningly and grasped Jacks other shoulder with his free hand. "Enough games. I want to know exactly what was going through your messed up little brain when you stuck a lizard in the wine."

Jack bit his lip, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. He brought a hand up and scratched lightly at the latex covering his scars. _Messed up? What __**was**__ I thinking? It seemed like fun at the time… But why…? _Jack found the edge of he latex and tugged in a attempt to get a good grip on it. He bit his lip and risked a glance at Bruce who seemed to be losing his patients.

"I- …I don't know." He finally answered.

Bruce took a frustrated breath. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I just, I don't know okay!" Jack exclaimed, pushing at Bruce with his free hand.

"You have to know, you're the one that did it! Do you honestly expect me to believe you have no idea why you stuck a lizard in the wine then broke out laughing like some insane man!?" As soon as those words left his lips he immediately regretted it. _Oh shit._

"YES!" Jack shouted. He grabbed a hand full of the irritating latex and ripped it all off in one go. "I don't **know** why I put a fucking lizard in the wine! I don't **know** why I replaced the cakes frosting with wood glue! I don't **know** why I took that man into the bathroom, shoved his head in the toilet then duck taped the lid shut! I DON'T KNOW!" He choked back a rising sob and when limp in Bruce's arms.

Bruce, unsure of what to do, released his bruising hold on Jacks shoulders and wrapped his arms around his waist instead. _Great. Time to add a new title to the mix. Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, prince of Gotham, certified jackass. _He felt Jack shiver against him and realized that the confused man was shirtless. Needless to say, this brought a profound blush to his cheeks. _Did he shiver or shudder?_

"I- Damn it. I'm sorry." Bruce apologized. He shifted Jack in his arms and stumbled towards the bed. _Why am __**I**__ apologizing? _They collapsed on the bed, Jack still in Bruce's arms and clinging to him for dear life. Bruce glanced around awkwardly, still trying to decide what to do in the strange situation.

_Okay, game plan Bruce. Drop the Joker, call the cops._ Jack whimpered and mumbled something against the other mans chest. Bruce strained to hear what he was saying but soon gave up with a huff. He placed a hand on Jacks back, rubbing in soothing circles in an attempt to calm the ex-murderer. _Damn it! My body's a double agent!_

"Jack…I'm sorry. I shouldn't of yelled like that. I just want to know why you would do something like that." Bruce asked softly.

Jack looked up at him with glassy eyes, resting his chin on Bruce's chest. "Dunno. Hey Brucey?"

"Hm?" Bruce blushed at the nickname.

"Why are the lights dancing?" He gestured to the ceiling.

"What?" Bruce turned to look at the light himself but found nothing out of the ordinary. Confused, he gazed down at Jack who was now swaying his head as if going along with a beat.

"What are you talking about?"

"The liiiiiiights. They look so funny. Colorful." Jack giggled at this.

_Was he on mushrooms or something before he got here? _Bruce gripped Jacks chin and forced his gaze away from the lights. "Jack? Jack look at me. What are you talking about? Theirs nothing wrong with the lights."

"Jokes on you, the guts will spew! HAHAHAHAAAA!" Jack broke out laughing once more.

_Okay, this is not good. Sooo not good. Is he relapsing or something? Wait, isn't that only in medicine? What if he had a concussion? Ohhhh, this goes beyond freaky! _Bruce grasped the sides of Jacks face and rubbed softly over the hidden head wound. "Jack? Jack calm down. Look at me, theirs nothing wrong with the lights. Stop laughing and calm down."

Bruce was surprised once more when Jack complied. Instantly relaxing in Bruce's soothing hold and discontinued laughing, his smile never faltering. _Okay, now what? Aww hell, I'll wing it._

Bruce removed his hands from Jacks face and placed them on his waist once more. "Okay, I want you to take a deep breath and lay back."

Jack did as he was told and laid back on the soft bed. Bruce shifted the other man so he was laying on the pillows and pulled the sheets back. "Good. Now relax. Try to sleep."

Almost instantly, Jack fell into a light sleep. Bruce softly slid the sheets over the sleeping man, careful not to wake him, and lifted himself off the bed. He quickly changed into some comfortable clothes before turning out the light and slipping unnoticed out of the room. Once safely in the hallway he leaned against the far wall and took a deep breath.

"Okay. Let me get this straight. I'm keeping a homicidal maniac who somehow lost his memory in my home and for some reason my body refuses to corporate with my brain and I've taking a liking to him." Bruce stared wide eyed at nothing in particular for a good while before pushing himself off the wall and walking down the hall.

"Well someone in this house is going insane and I hope to god it isn't me!" He threw his arms up in frustration.

**

* * *

**

"So he just fell asleep?" Alfred gave a skeptical look before throwing another piece of garbage in the trash.

"Yeah, it was so weird. Maybe he was just tired." Bruce crossed his arms and toed at a piece of discarded cake on the floor.

"Tired? You said he thought the lights were dancing. Either he's hallucinating or someone slipped something in the wine this evening." The aged butler joked, reaching for a broken piece of glass.

Bruce kicked the smashed cake and watched it slid an impressive distance across the room.

"Someone slipped something in the wine alright but it wasn't what your thinking of."

Alfred looked over to where the cake slid and glared at the long trail of frosting it left behind. _Yes Bruce, continue making a mess. I'll just become an insomniac and clean all night. _He reached for the mop leaning against the wall and began cleaning the area. "Did you ever stop to think maybe he was 'hallucinating'?"

"I told you, there was nothing in the wi-"

"I mean really **hallucinating**." Alfred cut off.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean hallucinating like too much to drink or hallucinating like 'holy shit aliens are coming out of the electric socket'?"

Alfred gave Bruce an odd look before answering. "Err…the second one. Maybe he's just going insane…again."

Bruce's eyes widened at the thought. "You mean he could go back to being a homicidal insane knife obsessed lunatic but **still** not remember who he is?!" He uncrossed his arms and let them hang by his sides.

"I would believe so sir." Alfred straightened up and smiled approvingly at his handiwork.

"Well we've got to stop him! Can't we get him some medicine or something that'll stop all his hallucinations and breakdowns?" Bruce hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt and cleared his throat.

Alfred gave him a indescribable look and shook his head, sighing. "I'm sorry to say it isn't as simple as that sir. One must first figure out what ails him to get the proper medication. He needs to see a doctor anyway, we don't know the severity of his head wound."

_Ails? _Bruce gaped comically. "But no doctor in Gotham will see him! And if we do take him to a hospital the scars are a dead giveaway and he'll be thrown in Arkham for sure!" He fussed.

Alfred gave a small smirk before baring a face of false innocence. "But sir, I thought you wanted that filthy criminal locked up for good? If he has no idea who he is, wouldn't that make it all the more simpler?" He failed at hiding the smirk.

"Uhh…well I…" Bruce stuttered, wide eyed and gaping. "Well I- I do. It's just that… well wouldn't it be, you know… kinda mean to just lock him up with no idea why? I-I mean… he could stay here for a while. Just until he remembers that is. Then we can lock him up." _Smooth…_

Alfred chuckled knowingly. "Of course sir. Well, I suppose you could bribe one of the many doctors into checking the Joker out." He tapped his chin in thought.

"Jack." Bruce crossed his arms.

Alfred gave him a confused look. "Jack. Right, of course."

"So how much do you think he'll go for? I'm thinking 1,000 , 2,000 maybe?"

"I'll call and find out." Alfred hummed a tune and walked towards the door. "Oh and Master Bruce, you might want to check on 'Jack'. God knows how hell react to waking up in **your bed**."

Bruce stiffed at the thought and spun around. "I knew that! And don't go over 5,000! I'm not a Swiss bank!" He called, jogging out of the still messy ball room and down the hall.

**

* * *

**

_Tired. Head hurts. Nose itches. _Jack turned on his side and swung an arm over the side of the bed. _Bed? Why am I…? Forget it, I'm hungry. _He pried his eyes open and blinked a couple of times in an attempt to become fully awake before getting up. Yawning, he threw the covers off him and jumped off the bed, feeling refreshed and devious. _Okay, find kitchen first, then find Bruce._

He ran out of the room in nothing but the beige khakis and set off on a hunt for the kitchen. _Maybe he has dolphin meat… _He giggled at the thought. After running into a couple of empty rooms and passing the same statue of a flower four times Jack ultimately decided he was lost. Again. "Oh well this is just dandy." He muttered sarcastically.

He came up to the flower statue once again and glared at it, wishing somehow it would become real just so he could step on it. "Who builds a statue of a flower anyway?" something occurred to him. "Who **buys** a statue of a flower?!"

"I like it." Someone announced from behind.

Jack stopped glaring and turned to face the opposing voice. "Yeah well its stu-" He cut himself off and watched as Bruce smirked at him.

Bruce walked up to the other man and placed his hand on his shoulder. Jack winced at the tender touch and pulled back slightly, not wanting anymore harm to come to his already bruised shoulder.

"Sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be so rough." Bruce frowned and moved his thumb in soothing circles on Jacks already forming bruise.

Jack hummed lightly and leaned into the touch. "Nah, you had ever right to be angry. Sorry 'bout the lizard. And the other stuff…"

"Other stuff?" Bruce asked, confused.

"Ya know, the glue and the duck tape." Jack mumbled.

_Glue? Duck tape? _Suddenly it all came back to him. "Oh shit, is that man still in the toilet?!" Bruce removed his hand.

Jack whimpered at the sudden loss of contact and turned to face Bruce fully. "Mmmhmm." He smiled. "But he's probably drowned by now."

"What?!" Bruce's eyes widened to comical proportions. "Take me to him, NOW!"

Jack winced at the sudden outburst but suddenly got an idea. "Okay, what ever you say Brucey!" He grasped Bruce's hand in his own and ran full speed down the hall, dragging Bruce along.

"Wait, wait slow down!" Bruce shouted. Jack simply giggled and ran faster, blushing at the fact that they were holding hands. All to soon they arrived at the bathroom that held the man in question.

"Weere heeere!" Jack giggled once more and yanked the door open, reveling a disturbing sight indeed.

Bruce stared in horrified awe at the scene before him. An unidentifiable man was knelt over the toilet with the lid indeed duck taped shut. But that wasn't the horrible part, no. The mans spine was pulled out halfway at the bottom and the lid was splattered with blood, as if it had been used to repeatedly whack the man while his head was inside.

"J-Jack…what happened? D-did you do this?" Bruce asked, not believing the sight before him. _Oh god. I thought losing his memory would stop things like this._

Jack smiled proudly. "Yep! Did I do good?"

Bruce looked disbelievingly at Jack and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Jack, the lizard was a prank, I understand that. But you can't- you can't do things like this. No more Jack."

Jack suddenly frowned, his scars twisting curling making him look like he wanted to smile but just couldn't. "But I thought, I did good."

"Why would you think something like this was good?" Bruce brushed some untidy hair out of Jacks face.

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment before answering.. "The voices. They tell me things. They don't like you. But I do! You have nice eyes."

Bruce blushed lightly at the sudden complement but shook it off, wanting to get back on track.

"What voices? What else do they tell you? Are they talking to you right now?"

"Mhhmhhhm. Telling me things. Sometimes they yell. But I don't listen! Not all the time…" Jack drifted off and shifted uncomfortably.

"Why did you listen to them now?"

Panic suddenly bore Jacks features and his breathing became unnaturally quick. "They said they would make me sleep. Then they'd make do things, bad things, like this to more people." He swallowed thickly and stared down at the hard tiled floor, his voice becoming quieter with every word. "I just figured one life wasn't much compared to a party's worth."

Bruce's features softened at the unsure words. Sighing softly, he gazed into the bloody bathroom and scrunched his nose up at the odd combination of salty medal and Clorox. "And you were right. Granted this is also unacceptable, you chose the lesser of two evils."

Jack looked up, green eyes brightening with unsure hope. "I don't like the voices." He whispered.

Bruce realized that they were still holding hands and used this to his advantage. He gave Jacks hand a light squeeze and pulled him towards himself. "What if I told you I could make the voices go away?"

Jack nodded eagerly, giving his own light squeeze. "Do I have to go to the doctors?"

_God he's such a child._

Jack bit his lip, unintentionally becoming the poster child for adorable mental cases.

_A fucking cute child. _"No, the doctor will be coming to us. Okay?"

Jack smiled widely, discreetly pulling Bruce away from the gruesome scene. It was then that Jacks stomach growled. And rather loudly I might add. He placed his hand on his stomach and looked pleadingly at Bruce. "Can he come after you feed me? Or do I have to ransack your kitchen?"

Bruce gave a small smile, still a little wary from witnessing first hand the after affects of 'hearing voices. "I'm going to get you something to eat and then I want you to tell me what you were doing at the party in the first place."

"Okay! Can I have cheese?"

"You can have cheese if the recipe calls for it." Bruce answered, leading them away from the murder scene and to the kitchen.

"What's the recipe?"

"Well find out when we get there."

"How long 'till we get there?" Jack practically skipped down the hall.

"I don't know."

"It's your house, why don't you know?" Jack raised an eye brow.

"I don't generally time my trips from the bathroom to the kitchen."

"Okay."

They walked in silence for a while, still holding hands but neither willing to let go just yet. Jack turned to Bruce once more.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

Bruce's eyes widened at the unexpected question. "I'll tell you later."

Jack shifted so that their arms were now interlocked. Bruce blushed once more but didn't move away. _He's been here less than a day and already I've been gang raped by emotions I didn't know I had. _

**

* * *

**

**Authors Notes**

**Special thanks to my Beta: Amanda Saitou!**

**Whoa! **Sorry for the late update! I had Batman writers block. ^_^' The good news is I'm already halfway done with the next chapter! I realize I still haven't revealed the reason for the party but I will soon! XD

I hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Please **Review**! They motivate me to write!


	4. The doctor is in danger

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT!**

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, ****and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"So uh, Alfred is it?"

Alfred's sweeping came to a sudden halt and his hands gripped the broom stick tighter. He took a sharp breath before answering. "Indeed it is. Do you need anything master Jack?" _The day he becomes my master is the day my big British ass turns blue. _He grimaced.

Jack took a big bit out of his pizza and munched on it loudly. "Can I call you Fred?"

Alfred's eye twitched with every loud squish of pizza. "I'd rather you not." He resumed sweeping.

Jack took another unnecessarily large bite out of the pizza and chomped on it. "Mhat dimt dis mit?" He asked with a mouthful of dough.

"Excuse me?" The older man questioned.

Jack swallowed thickly and winced as the large chunk stretched his throat almost passed its limits. "I said: What time is it? I've been hear a while and its still dark out. That's kinda weird."

The butlers eyebrow arched and he gave Jack a dull look. _Fair enough. _He stood up straight, leaning slightly on the long broom and tapped his chin in thought. Jack squirmed impatiently and nibbled on the end of the mutilated pizza piece.

"Well," Alfred began. "You arrived here around 11 or so and fell asleep for approximately…an hour and a half. That would have made it about 12:30 when Bruce attended the party and, thanks to your devilish little deeds, said party only lasted about two hours before all hell broke loose." He gave Jack a disapproving look and in return, only smiled. Again, in a harsher tone, "The guests left at 3 which was surprisingly early for them believe it or not, and I was left cleaning almost all night while you had a nap. Assuming you just woke up just now I'd say you've been asleep for…two hours. More or less." He finished.

Jack blinked and furrowed his brows, a piece of pizza crust hanging from the side of his mouth. He growled lightly and let the bread drop from his lips. "I just wanted to know the time!" He stomped off melodramatically but not before rudely kicking the broomstick from under the poor butler.

Alfred flopped onto the hard tile right into the pile of dirt and food he had been sweeping up. He sputtered and coughed, trying to get as much dust and garbage out of his wind-pipe as he could and rolled ungracefully off the heap of litter. "I don't get paid enough to tolerate this."

Jack wandered the halls lazily, growing more and more tired with each step. He'd done the calculations in his head and was genuinely surprised to find it to be around 5 A.M.. _I should probably find somewhere to pass out. _He giggled and turned into what he presumed was the living room.

_It's five in the morning, what would be the point? I'd just have to wake up in a few hours anyway._

His eyes scanned over the dark room. Shadows stood paralyzed along the walls and floor and not a sound was heard. The room vaguely resembled a painting and Jack found himself wondering whether or not to find a place to lay down or just stand there and observe the black, almost blue room. A yawn decided for him and he soon found himself sprawled atop the velvety couch, the need for rest overpowering him.

*******

Sleep did not come as easy for Bruce. The sheets had long been tossed to the floor and the pillow was next in line. He sighed and flipped onto his back, silently listening to the soft shuffling of his loyal butler still cleaning up down the hall from him. He felt bad for putting his old friend through all this just for his sake and made a promise to himself to repay the man as best he could.

_I could give him a vacation._

He immediately mentally obliterated that thought and turned on his side, seeking a more comfortable position.

_As much I'm sure he'd appreciate it I couldn't last a week with out him. Heck I cant even cook! I'm just glad that pizza was microwavable, tasty too._

He smiled at the memory of almost blowing up the pizza with Jack. Suddenly he flopped onto his stomach and threw the remaining pillow over his head, growling.

_No, no, no! Stop it Bruce! Don't bond with him. He's a murderer, trash, garbage, disgusting filth that the city crapped out one horrible day and was never flushed! _

He grimaced at his disgusting metaphor but didn't stop there.

_That man isn't Jack, whoever Jack is. He's The Joker. An unbelievably psychotic man in dire need of a straight jacket and an overdose of morphine. _

Bruce grew angrier and angrier with each passing second, his hatred for the clown building within him; boiling with every passing word. He shut his eyes and tried to force sleep to come.

_Look at me, I'm losing precious sleep over him. A couple of hours and he's already ninja-d his way into my brain. So clever, so sly, and oh so very cunning. Like a fox. Yeah, that's what he is, a fox. An evil purple fox with scared cheeks and white, red and black face fur bent on causing chaos and bringing the world to it's knees._

He began to sweat and shifted uncomfortably on the large bed. Images of buildings ablaze and the charred remains of innocents flashed through his mind. Bruce could almost feel the flames licking at him, tasting him. An ash clouded the sky bringing an unnatural chill over Gotham despite the intense fires quickly engulfing it. His minds eye scanned the wreckage but despite the horrible screams found nothing. But…there. Standing beside the leveled police station. He could see him.

The Joker.

The edges of his suit aflame and covered from head to toe in burning blood. His eyes were no longer a beautiful gleaming green but instead an unnatural jet black that spread into the whites of his eyes. He looked positively demonic, even more so as he slowly opened his mouth, his yellowed teeth now orange due to the old blood that had clung to it.

Chaos.

Every where, chaos.

The Jokers bloodied mouth widened to unnatural proportions, stretching and finally ripping his scars fresh. Then everything grew silent. All the screams, the sobs and the roar of the fire, suddenly muted. Bruce held his breath, knowing full well what was to come.

He waited five seconds, ten, then twenty before opening his eyes, confused.

He gave a terrified yelp to find the Joker nose to nose with him. His face still ripped almost in two, blood flowing like a river down his chin and disappearing into his coat. Still smiling. Still muted. Then, it came. The Jokers laugh split the air, high pitched and hysterical. And as if someone had hit a button, sound returned.

The fierce roar of the flames, the screams, cry's for help, and the Jokers laughter all combining to create an insane and twisted song from hell. Then, as if commanded by some demented higher power, Bruce grudgingly joined in, letting out a terrified wail of his own and adding on to compose and complete the hellish symphony as the murderous fires consumed him.

*******

"Bruce! Bruce you annoying rich thing, wake up!" Bruce let out a strangled yelp as he was whacked upside the head with what he assumed was a pillow.

"GAH!" Bruce gasped at his collision with the floor, which successfully knocked the air out of his lungs. He clenched his eyes shut and tried fruitlessly to stop the pounding headache that was coming on. Rolling on his side, he pushed himself up with his elbow and opened his eyes to meet the worried and somewhat disturbed gaze of his butler.

"Master Bruce, are you quite alright?" Alfred asked obviously concerned.

"Huh?" Bruce responded dumbly.

"He asked if you were alright. Though the question should have been: Are you insane?!" Bruce glanced up and saw Jack standing on his bed, one hand on his hip and the other clutching the suspected pillow. The look on his face showed that he was clearly annoyed and by the looks of the bags under his eyes hadn't got much sleep.

Bruce made a face and pushed himself off the ground in an effort to size up the scared man whom of which was still standing on the bed. "I'm fine and no I am not insane." _Unlike you. _"I just had a nightmare as all."

Jack huffed and jumped off the bed. "Well next time could you have it a little quieter? I think your screams shattered my ear drums!" He yelled raising the pillow for another attack.

Bruce grabbed the offending pillow and threw it to the ground. "What time is it?" He asked Alfred.

"Well-"

"Ohhhh no!" Jack cut in. "Don't ask him! He'll give you an entire lecture on when you fell asleep and what you did leading up to it being the current time!"

Alfred glared at the former killer and stood tall. "It's exactly 11:34 Master Bruce" Alfred smirked as Jack gapped.

"NO FAIR! Your doing this on purpose!" The blonde shouted angrily.

"Jack, calm down and go get ready for your appointment. That means brushing your teeth and actually **using** toothpaste. Wait in the main hall when your done." Bruce instructed calmly.

Jack pouted but otherwise did as he was told. "Whatever you say **Mom**." He shouted, stomping out the door.

"Thanks Alfred."

Alfred tilted his head up and walked towards the door. "That goes for you too, Sir." He smiled walking out the door.

Bruce ran and stood by the door frame. "But Alfred! I **do** use toothpaste, honest!" He shouted down the hall.

*******

All three men stood in the main hall of Wayne manor, patiently waiting for the doorbell to ring and the doctor to arrive. Bruce wore some casual cloths that consisted of jeans and a navy blue tee-shirt. Alfred in his normal butler suit, and Jack in almost the same thing he wore yesterday with the exception that the shirt was now purple.

Jack leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets feeling quite board. He winced as another headache forced its way into his head and wondered what was taking the doctor so long.

_When he gets here I'm gonna-_

_**Ding-Dong**_

"What the blood fuck took him so long!?" Jack shouted angrily.

"Calm down, he's here now." Bruce watched impatiently as Alfred strolled to the door and pulled it open. A thin and nervous looking man stood on the other side. His hands were clasped tightly around a black leather case and he wore a white lab coat that seemed two sizes two big for him.

"H-hello. I'm Doctor James Intine, MD. First house call since the early 1970's." He smiled brightly, obviously proud.

Alfred backed from the door letting the doctor come in. Bruce shook his hand and smiled politely. "Bruce Wayne. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, and its an honor to meet you Mr. Wayne. I heard Rachel Dawes had her birthday party here. Only to be cut short but a mischievous prank." Dr. Intine stated, still smiling brightly.

Bruce shot an brief accusing glance at Jack before replying. "Ahh yes. Quite a party. To bad it had to be cut short. For some reason people were getting sick after eating the cake." _Why is that?…_

"Tragic." The doctor still seemed ecstatic at being in the presence of the billionaire and unintentionally tightened his grip on Bruce's hand. Bruce's smile faltered and the doctor immediately realized his mistake, releasing his hand and turned to Jack.

His bright smile suddenly dropped at the sight of the scars and he struggled for words. Jack crossed his arms and glared at the older man. "I'm impatient so lets get this over with." He stomped over to the nearest chair and slumped down on it.

The doctor stood gaping after him, his hand still raised to shake. "T-that's-"

"Yes we know." Bruce cut off. "Now we're paying you a lot so I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

"But, but, b-but-" The doctor stuttered.

"Alfred." Bruce called.

Alfred walked up to the doctor and held out a covered silver tray. He opened it up and the doctor gasped at what he saw. Money. And a lot of it.

The doctor brightened up again and franticly looked around. "Where's my bag?! Where's the patient?!" He grabbed his bag from the floor and pulled out a chart before stepping in front of Jack and clearing his throat, suddenly very professional. "Before we get started I'd like to ask you a few questions." He held up the chart along with a pencil.

"'kay." Jack answered dully.

"Name?"

"Jack."

"Last name?"

Jack paused for a second, slightly confused. "Err…Jack?"

"Your name is Jack…Jack?" Dr. Intine asked skeptically.

"Erm yes?" Jack tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at Bruce, silently asking for some help.

Bruce faltered and chuckled nervously. _Damn it! I never thought of one. _"You don't **really **need a last name, do you?"

"No I suppose not." James turned back to Jack. "Age?"

"Age?" Jack repeated questioningly.

"Yes age. Don't you know how old you are? Or do you think your some kind of immortal?" Dr. Intine asked with a hint of spite.

"I **don't **think I'm immortal and no, as a matter of fact I don't know how old I am. Bruce on the other hand seems to know quite a lot about me. Ask him." Jack replied smugly.

"Okay okay that's it!" Bruce shouted in an attempt to avoid the question. "Look, he's got amnesia. He doesn't know who he is or how he got here. Can we please just skip all this?"

"Amnesia?!" Dr. Intine and Jack were in perfect sync.

"Wait, you never said anything about amnesia! I was supposed to check out a head wound!" James shouted.

"What the hell! You never told me I had amnesia! No wonder I can't remember a damn thing!" Jack shot out of the chair and clenched his fists.

"Mr. Wayne I specialize in Infectious diseases and Emergency medicine, **not** Psychiatry."

"But the amnesia was **caused **by the head wound. There has to be something you can do. Alfred, help me out here." Bruce spun around to face his loyal butler only to find him gone from the room and the low humming of a vacuum coming from somewhere in the mansion. He turned back to face Dr. Intine and cleared his throat. "As I was saying, fix him or Jack gets a new toy." _That should do it._

The doctor furrowed his brows and began to look very nervous. He risked a glance at the still pissed Jack and instantly became nauseous at the thought of the horrible things he was capable of. "Fine. But I'm doing it for the money."

"Fine by me." Bruce crossed his arms.

"Not by me! I'm still confused as hell!" Jack directed all of his anger at Bruce and instantly felt his head begin to throb but tried to ignore it. "Who the hell am I? What happened and were am I?"

"Jack, just calm down. Look, It's hard to explain. I'll tell you later." Bruce put his hand on Jack shoulder in an attempt to appease him but that only had the opposite affect.

"No I will not calm down you stupidly handsome rich thing!" Jacks breathing was erratic and his hands had bunched into white knuckled fists.

_Fuck, too angry. Oh god the pain! My head hurts so fucking much. It feels like someone's shoving a pipe through my brain! I shouldn't be this angry, what the fuck is happening? _

Jack franticly searched the large room for something unknown to even himself. His eyes fell upon the doctors discarded pencil and he quickly snatched that up. He roughly yanked back the doctor who had been silently edging away from him and wrapped one arm around his chest and arms while the other held the pencil to his exposed neck. "Now I want to know right now, who the fuck am I and why can I stop myself?!"

*******

**AUTHORS NOTES**

Okay, well, that was fun! :) I hope you enjoyed! Once again, thanks to my awsome beta, **Amanda Saitou**!

I want to take a second to thank all of you great people who have taken time to review to my story, even if its just: _I love it! _I also want to thank everybody who has either Faved me, Faved my story, Story alerts, or Author alerts. You all are great, and I'm not just saying that! 8)

Love and straightjackets,

Miz. Jynx


	5. Alternate Pizza Scene

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT! **

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), minor coarse language, and minor suggestive themes.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**READ:**

Listen up boys and girls! This is what I believe **could've **happened If instead of putting the pizza in the microwave, Jack and Bruce stuck it in the oven. X) It's a deleted scene I just couldn't **not **post. X)

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Alternate Pizza Scene**

Bringing Jack to the kitchen, Bruce soon found out, was not one of his greatest ideas.

Flour was thick in the air and littered the counter tops while chunks of cheese and sausage layered the floor coated thickly with a dark red sauce. Jack ran and slid across the messy floor, giggling and wildly waving around a burlap sack that once held most of the flour that layered the room. He was covered thickly with the red sauce and white flour giving him a pink cotton-candy appearance. "Its snowing!" He shouted wildly, whipping around the sack and successfully releasing another giant puff of flour.

"Jack, put the sack down and help me up!" Bruce shouted from his place on the floor a few feet away. He struggled to get to his feet but once again slipped and landed on a small puddle of sauce, splattering it everywhere. He watched as Jack slipped up and landed hard on his back but immediately got back up and continued running around. _Oh my god, he's like a hyper five year old on crack!_

"No can do Brucey! I'm not done yet!" He shook his head as he said this, his sauce matted hair swinging around randomly. A ding sounded and Jack hopped to the oven, leaving Bruce to continue to slip and fall in futile attempts to get off the floor. He heard the door open along with an audible gasp and looked up to find Alfred with a genuine look of horror plastered on his face.

"What did you do to the kitchen?!" The question was aimed at Jack but Bruce decided to answer for him.

"We were making pizza." Bruce admitted sheepishly.

"Pizza? If I may ask sir, why didn't you just order some?" Alfred asked with a pained look. _My poor kitchen…_

"Well, Jack was afraid that--" He was cut off by a loud yelp of pain and a string of very colorful curses. He turned his gaze to Jack who was now sitting on the floor next to an open oven, the contents of which half out. He was holding his hands palm up in front of him, seemingly trying not to move them. He turned his head towards Bruce and glared angrily. "Your oven is trying to kill me!" He yelled, baring his teeth and whimpering in pain.

Bruce looked up at his butler and got to his knees. "Alfred, could you help me up? Please?"

Alfred nodded his head and lifted Bruce to his feet, were he took a few hesitant steps before walking over to the oven and turning it off. He then knelt beside Jack and took his hands in his own. "Did you even bother looking for the oven mitts?"

Jack sniffed defiantly and stared down at his stinging hands. "I didn't think I'd be that hot. Pizza is never this hot when I eat it." He grumbled, turning his attention to the oven. "Assassin!" He yelled.

Bruce chuckled. "You've obviously never eaten home made pizza. It comes straight from the oven, there for it's really hot." Bruce explained, leading them off the floor and to the sink. "As a matter of fact, anything coming out of an oven is hot. It's common sense really."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when the cold water touched his burnt skin and almost forgot the current situation. He opened his eyes and smirked at Bruce who raised an eyebrow at him. "Well I'm not a very common guy, therefore no common sense."

Bruce looked at him skeptically and continued to lightly rub the tender skin under the running water. "Oh I'm sure I could find another dirty blond with green eyes somewhere in this city."

Jack held his smirk. "How many dirty blonds do you know with a Glasgow smile?"

Bruce momentarily froze and glanced up at Jack. He was smirking even wider and Bruce became memorized at how the skin around his scars stretched and pulled over the taut muscles. _I'm beginning to hate it when he's right. _"Not many."

Jack snickered and removed his hands from under the water and out of Bruce's reach, suddenly deeming them good enough to use. "Really? Aww, I was hoping I was the only one." He feigned hurt.

Bruce dried his hands and threw the towel at the burnt mans head who in turn carefully dried his hands as well. "You said this doctor is coming later today, right?" Jack asked letting the towel fall to the floor.

"Yeah, maybe if you can keep yourself alive long enough you'll get to meet him." Bruce snickered and Jack threw him an annoyed glance. Jack shifted and scanned the messy yet delicious smelling room before stopping at the open oven. "So how do we get it out?"

Bruce turned to face him and held up his hands that were now covered in large red mittens. "Oven mitts." He grabbed the pizza and set it down on the table which was surprisingly the only thing in the room remotely clean. He pulled them off and held them in front of Jacks face. "You might want to use these next time."

Jack scoffed playfully and swatted at the offending mitts, missing them completely when Bruce yanked them away.

"Wouldn't want you to hurt your hands any more than they are." Bruce smiled and took a seat at the table that already had three plates on it. Three incase Alfred had a change of heart and decided to join them.

Bruce began slicing and serving the pizza when he noticed his 'guest' wasn't sitting down. In fact, he was clear across the kitchen with his hands in the freezer.

"Okay, what the hell are you doing?" Wayne set the knife down and strolled over to the other man who in turn looked at him and gave a sheepish chuckle. "Uhhh…my hands sting."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. "Which means I can't pick up my food and therefore cannot eat."

"Since when did you start making sense?"

"Since I stuck my hands in the oven." The scared man put bluntly.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms, suddenly feeling quite awkward with the whole situation. Even more so when Jacks stomach started to growl.

He suddenly got an idea. Pulling his hands out of the freezer, Jack mustered up the cutest look he could manage and turned away from Bruce, green eyes never once leaving dark brown. "Well…I guess I'll have to wait to eat, but that could take days. Or…" he bit his lip. "You could feed me…"

Bruce stared wide eyed at the scene before him, sputtering and choking on his own words. "Gah- I…um…well…s-sure…?"

Jack giggled and did a mental happy dance. _Woot! I should stick my hands in the oven more often! _He inwardly winced at the thought. _Err…maybe I'll just pout…_

Bruce was currently leading the other man to the table and mentally chewing himself out. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Damn it Bruce, stop giving in to his cuteness! No! No, not cute, guys can't be cute. Especially former mass murderers! _He glanced at Jack, now sitting, and tried to somehow melt that ever-present smile off his face.

"Sit down and open up." Bruce commanded nervously.

Jack sat and wiggled his fingers, wincing when they stuck together in places. "Uhh, will my hands stick together if I let them touch?" he asked, already closing the gap between his hands.

Bruce grabbed a piece of pizza and shuffled closer to his companion. "Probably. I wouldn't try it though, might need a knife to separate them."

Jack stopped short and let his arms drop to his lap. "Ehh, sounds painful…"

"Yeah, I would think slicing your skin to separate you hands **would** be painful. Now eat." Bruce let the slice hover before Jacks lips and blushed, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation. Jack smirked and bit a chunk out of the dough, munching on it loudly and taking a few more bites before turning his attention back to Bruce. He was looking away, a light, almost unnoticeable blush on his cheeks. Jack swallowed and smirked.

"Ya know, it's really nice of you to do this for me. Seeing as I just met you and all. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had the hots for me." He smiled widely and took another chunk out of the dough, inwardly laughing when Bruce's light blush darkened profoundly.

"Yeah well, you do know better. I'm just a nice guy is all." Bruce pouted and reached for his own slice with his free hand. He nibbled on it and looked away.

Jack suddenly noticed how small the piece was getting and got an idea. He brought his face up close as if to take another bit but instead, took a small hesitant lick at Bruce's fingers. Bruce moaned softly as Jacks soft muscle slid over each of his fingers and sucked on his pinky. By now his face was red with embarrassment and unwanted arousal yet he still refused to look Jack in the eye.

_Ohh ahaha hoohooo! This is too good! And his fingers taste delicious! _Jack had to fight to retain his laughter when Bruce gave another soft moan. Bruce couldn't focus on anything but the wonderful feeling of Jacks slick tongue on his fingers and he found himself wondering what **else **he could do with that mouth. _This is wrong. This is so wrong. _Jack gave a few more small licks. _But god does it feel right. _He heard Jack muffle a giggle and felt himself grow red with embarasment. _Perverted bastard. Damn tease. I hate your tongue._

All to soon Jack pulled his mouth away and giggled mischievously, licking his lips in triumph. Bruce shot his head up and stared wide eyed at Jack, still trying to process what just happened.

"Tasty. Can I have seconds?" Jack himself wasn't sure if he was talking about the pizza or Bruce.

"Wh-what the hell was that?!" Bruce exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch or two.

"'That' was hot." Jack smirked and got up. "Try blowing on it next time."

He left the room with no more then a few giggles, leaving Bruce alone in the messy kitchen with a half eaten pizza, and his pole at half mast.

* * *

**Authors Notes**

Meh. **This was a deleted scene. **This is why I didn't wan to put it in the accual story line. It went too fast. But it was already written and I thought it was too cute to pass up. ^^ Plus, It was way to long for a simple kitchen scene. Hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will be up soon!

Please **Review**!

Love and Straightjackets,

Miz. Jynx


	6. Mirrors are evil

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT! **

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 5**

Everything froze.

Jacks stance unwavering, the pencil turned potential murder weapon digging into the doctors neck hard enough to break the skin but not enough to draw blood. The victimized doctor had stopped struggling out of pure fear for his life. Bruce stood glued to the ground, not believing the events that were unfolding before him.

"Tell me who I am!" Jack shouted once again, his voice rough and demanding. Dr. Intines ears were ringing from all the shouting and he couldn't stop his ragged breathing or heart beat no matter how many times he held his breath.

Bruce chose his next words very carefully. _One wrong move and this guy could end up like that man in the bathroom._ "Jack? Jack just take it easy, okay? Let that man go, he didn't do anything."

"No! Not until you tell me! What happened before I got here? How did I get this gash on my head and why are my wrists bandaged?!" Jack swiped his tongue around his mouth, feeling and mapping out the layout of his scars. He licked his lips and tightened his grip on Dr. Intine who at the moment was doing his best not to move.

"Listen Jack, I know your confused and maybe even a little scared but do you really believe killing that man will give you the answer?" _He's so much more rational when he's scared. _Bruce held out his hand and gave a give-it-here gesture.

Jack was at a cross roads. He could drop the pencil and jump into Bruce's arms like a lost child…or he could kill this man and feel that same rush of raw power he felt when ripping the spine out of that one unlucky party guest. He leaned forward on his victim for he was the only thing currently stopping Jack from meeting the floor.

"Come on Jack. It's okay, just take my hand and I tell you anything you want to know." _Is there some kind of lost connection between my brain and my mouth? I can't tell him __**everything.**_

"No…" Jack whimpered. _No, don't want this. Come on, just let 'im go. _Jacks mind raced with the doctors heart, both in a painful race to see which can give out faster. _Just calm down, breath…oh god it hurts! _He let lose a pathetic whine and released the terrified doctor who immediately ran as far away from the room at he could. Jack fell unceremoniously to the ground, clutching his head in agony and yanking at his hair.

Bruce immediately rushed to his side and pushed him gently on his back, fearing the worst. "Jack?"

Jack curled up on his side and grit his teeth, then he spoke, in a low threatening voice. "Tell me. Who, I am." He glared at the wall ahead of him, refusing to meet Bruce's worried gaze.

"Jack, It's more complicated than that. You…" Bruce sighed exasperatedly. "You aren't normal. Well you are, there nothings **physically **wrong with you, aside from the scars and cuts. But **mentally **well…" He stopped there, at a complete loss on how to explain things.

"I don't **care**!" Jack suddenly lashed out and shoved Bruce into the wall by his collar, both still on their knees. "What's **wrong **with me? These damn **emotions**, those **fucked up** **voices** I hear that **no one **else seems to notice, and these twisted **pictures** I see when I close my eyes! What are they! I know you know!"

Bruce matched Jacks glare and pressed himself against the wall. "And how exactly do you propose that?"

Jacks voice became dangerously low. "Because if you didn't know me I wouldn't be here."

Bruce stared somberly into once vibrant green eyes, now clouded over with indirect hate and confusion. He shifted uncomfortably on his knees and grasped Jacks shoulders for support, unintentionally bringing them closer together. _He's right. If I didn't know him, he would have been gone the hour he appeared. _"Okay."

"I'm waiting." He pressed his fisted upwards, putting pressure on Bruce's windpipe.

"Jack, who you are can't be explained with mere words. I have to show you." _Just let me go before I do something I'm sure we'll both regret. _

Jack suddenly looked nervous. The thought of not being in control of the situation scared him more than the voices themselves. He looked down and tightened his grip on the stronger mans collar. He spoke in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. "If I let you go, you tell me? You'll tell me who I am?"

"Yes." Bruce's voice was soft and reassuring.

Jack dropped his arms and slouched over, putting his head on Bruce's chest and hugged himself. Slightly embarrassed yet curious to the situation, Bruce wrapped his arms around the smaller man and heaved them both off the floor. "Come with me." Bruce began to walk in the direction of the living room but was halted by a small yet unsurprisingly strong hand grasping his arm. He turned and met Jacks unnaturally wide eyed gaze. "Jack what's-"

"The voices…I see them…" Jack sobbed nervously.

_Shit, could this day get any worse?! _"Close your eyes and walk." Bruce led him out of the main area and into the living room were he closed the door and plopped them both on the couch. "Open your eyes, you need to watch."

Jack did as he was told and looked questioningly at Bruce. "What am I watching?"

Bruce picked up the remote with one hand and put the other on Jacks back. "The news."

He clicked the T.V. on.

"_**No new information has been released on the deadly criminal: The Joker, who escaped from Arkham Asylum just last night. Just how he escaped is still a mystery and one unnamed attendant was quoted saying: **_**"He was thorough sedated and lock in a padded cell wearing a straightjacket and there were two armed security guards at the door. We don't know how he got out of the straightjacket let alone the building!" **_**I think that quote just enforces the fact of how dangerous this man is. Remember if you or someone you know has seen the Joker, contact your local authorities as soon as possible."**_

A picture of the Joker appeared on the screen.

"_**If you happen to see him on the streets, do not approach him. Please remember, the Joker is a very dangerous man and is very aggressive. Do not provoke him in anyway, he is armed and dangerous. Police commissioner Jim Gordon has this to say:**_

A live feed from GCPD appeared on the screen alongside the Jokers picture.

"**The Joker is legally insane and should not be approached for any reason whatsoever. We are doing every thing we can to find and stop this man before he attacks once more. I personally will do my up most best to capture and bring him to justice. That is all." **

_**On another note, Gothams own Batman has~"**_

Bruce muted the TV before the woman could continue.

Jack was stunned. He had shifted away from the comfortable arm sometime while the woman was speaking and was now at the end of the couch. He brought one trembling hand up to his face and softly rubbed the scared flesh, his eyes never leaving the picture of the Joker flashing on the screen. He shut his eyes at the memory of when he first met his supposed savior.

_**Flashback**_

"_Joker?" Bruce hesitantly reached out and put a soothing hand on his shaking shoulder. "Joker…are you okay?" _

"_W-who's Joker?" _

_Bruce sighed. "You are, well, that what you call yourself." _

_**End Flashback**_

"I'm…The Joker?" Jack lowered his head and attempted to hold back a sob.

Bruce looked longingly at his companion and attempted to console him, moving to sit next to him he gathering Jack in his arms.

"I'm sorry." Jack whispered.

Bruce was taken aback. "For what?"

"I'm just-I'm sorry."

_You better be sorry, you nearly blew up half of Gotham!_

_Stuff it Batman._

Jack suddenly shoved him away and stood up. "Stop it! Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?!" Bruce stood up as well.

"Doing that! All that touching and hugging! I get the feeling you wouldn't be doing any of this if I had never lost my memory! Am I right?!"

Bruce's throat when dry. _That isn't true. _He wanted to say, but he choked on his words. Jack gave him a hurt filled glare that paralyzed his lips. _I would have taken you in anyway, because I care. _But he new it was a lie. The fact of the matter was,

"If I was still the Joker, you would have left me to die." He growled through tearful eyes. Without warning, he shoved his way past Bruce and ran out of the room, leaving him to stare wide eyed at the TV before him and gather his thoughts. Stunned, hurt, and ultimately dumbfounded.

*******

Jack ran into the upstairs bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Hot tears poured from his eyes and sobs wracked his body, unabling him to breath properly. He shoved himself of the door and leaned over the sink, staring at himself in the large, clean mirror. His eyes were red and puffy and wild dirty blonde hair was strewn all over his face. His lips locked in a scowl as he glared daggers at his mirror self. "This is all your fault." He growled lowly.

His reflection seemed to smirk at his. "I didn't tell you to threaten that man." it spoke in a low, raspy voice.

Jack growled and grasped the edge of the sink tighter, his knuckles turning white from the strain. "You gave me no choice!" He shouted.

Its smirk only widened. "Yes I did. Every one has a choice. Even scum like you." It stated matter-of-factly.

Jack sniffed and rubbed furiously at his eyes, doing his best to stop any upcoming sobs. "I'm not scum! It's you! You're the one doing this! I didn't want to hurt anybody!" His voice became scratchy and his head throbbed in time with his heart.

"Yes you did. No one forced you to do anything, it was all you." Jacks reflection smiled widely, its own scars twisting and squirming to reveal sickening yellow teeth.

"No, NO, **NO**! Your lying! It wasn't me! You said…you said-"

"I said what?" It cut off.

Jack hugged himself and backed up a few paces, but the one in the mirror stayed put. In fact, it seemed to get closer. "You said…if I didn't do what you asked, you'd hurt Bruce. You'd make him watch as you killed everyone at the party, then his butler. You'd make him smile…" Jack shuttered. The thought of a forced smile giving him chills.

His reflection chuckled darkly, running a tongue over its chapped lips. "Smile…that's right. Smile Jack. You smile so much. Why not now? Don't you like me Jack?"

Jack was shaking now, his arms wrapped tightly around him in a death grip. Every step he took back seemed to draw his other self in closer until Jack backed into the wall, and they were face to face. Jack risked a glance over its shoulder at the mirror, and saw nothing. No one stared back at him, it was as if he didn't exist.

"Look at me." It asked in a sing-song voice.

Jack clenched his eyes shut, willing the manifestation away.

"**Look at me!**" It growled, its voice harsh and feral, almost demonic. Jacks eyes shot open and peered deep into their mirror images. It's eyes were a dark murky green, its teeth clenched and lips locked into a scowl.

Jacks own eyes widened as sheer terror filled his being. He bit his lip and dug his nails into his arms, feeling a sob rise in his throat.

It suddenly smiled. "Why so serious?" It asked softly.

Jack blacked out.

_**Flashback**_

"_You worthless lilt bastard!" Jacks father slurred, dangerously drunk. He lashed out, breaking a bottle of whiskey over his head effectively spilling its contents all over Jacks sliced face. The alcohol burned his bloody cheeks causing him to shriek in pain, ripping his cuts even further. Jeffery fiercely grabbed his only sons neck and bashed him into the wall, staining it with thick, fresh blood. Jack whimpered in pain and curled into a ball on the floor, clenching his teeth as wave after wave of excruciating pain pulsed through him. He felt his sliced cheeks flap painfully against his teeth, spilling more and more blood into his mouth, gagging him with the hot coppery taste. Jeffery yanked him up by his hair and threw him into the open closet, a small crawlspace under the stairs, and hurled the broken bottle a his head were it shattered. "Yer not commin' ou' o' there 'till you learn some respe__**ct**__." He spat on Jack, already cowering under his hateful gaze. The last thing Jack saw was the still, bleeding form of his mother a few feet away. Her skirt pulled up to her waist and her hair matted with blood. She was facing away from him, her body unnaturally twisted and broken on her stomach. Then the door was slammed in his face, leaving him alone in the small, cluttered closet. Bleeding, crying, and utterly hopeless. Eventually claustrophobia set in, and his screams would be heard by his neighbors for days, until they finally died down, and someone worked up the courage to call 911..._

_**End Flashback**_

The first thing Jack did when he woke up was slam himself firmly against the wall and glare at the mirror across from him. A thin sheet of cold sweat layered his body, sending chills through his spine in the occasional wave. He ground his teeth, frustrated and disappointed with himself at his inability to control whatever was happening to him. He stared fixatedly on his reflection, watching for any subtle movements he himself did not make, listening intently for any sign of 'it'.

"So now you shut up?" He asked in a harsh whisper. His reflection did not move an inch, or utter a sound without his lead. "This is all your fault. I know it is." His eyes did not leave his own, making him oblivious to anything around him. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his lungs hurt from the constant strain he put on them, along with a painfully dry throat making it hard to speak above a whisper.

"I wont let you use me. I'll find a way to get rid of you, even if I have to kill myself to do it." He would have cried, but he had shed so many tears already, leaving the darkening green orbs stinging and begging for moisture. Jack pushed himself off the wall and walked unfittingly calm over to the mirror above the sink. The room had gotten dark as he never turned on the light, but he could still see his every movement reflected in the large pane of glass. He watched himself closely, studying his own movements with sharp eyes.

His hand rose calmly from his side and picked up a heavy metal bowl designed to hold soap, and raised it above his head. He saw himself bring it down onto the glass, shattering it into thousands of fragmented pieces, each one raining down on him and nicking his skin. Tiny droplets of blood fell to the floor, the pale red a complete contrast to the pearly white of the bathroom. Glancing around, he saw himself, thousands of himself, reflected in every piece that flew by him in a shimmering rain.

Finally it was over. The place were the glass once stuck was now but an empty pale spot on the wall. Jack, still as calm as ever, lowered his hand and dropped the shiny metal. Small nicks and cuts covered his exposed skin and glinting shards of glass stuck out were they had impaled his flesh.

And Jack smiled.

He smiled and laughed, laughed until his dry throat burned and bleed, choking him and forcing him to cough and hack until he could breath once more. He collapsed to the floor and lay on his back over the sharp shards of glass, not noticing how they dug into his skin, embedding themselves. Jack stared up at the ceiling. His smile barely covering up the deep pitted confusion and misery that lay within him. He swept his tongue over his lips, enjoying the salty metallic taste that covered his lips and chin.

"Even if I hafta kill myself…" He muttered, and closed his eyes.

* * *

**Authors Notes**

Whoa. Angsty! Sorry for the lack of humor in this chapter but I assure you, all this angst is completely nessesary to the main plot. Again, I'd like to thank my Beta: **Amanda Saitou**.

Couple of things, screaming or over-useing your voice when you have a strep or sore throat **can** make it bleed. I've done it. It hurts. Bad.

Sadly, our favorite english butler Alfred did not make an apperance in this chapter. He'll be in the next, I assure you.

Lastly, I'm thinking of abandoning this.............................................HA! you should have seen the look on your faces! XD That was great, priceless. Lol, I wouldn't abandon this for all the cookies in the world!(They'd get stale) LOL. ^^ Next chapter up soon!


	7. Go Alfalfa!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT!

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

* * *

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 6**

"Ahh god…fffucking shit!" Jack dug his fingers deeper into his arms and felt around for the stray piece of glass he knew was lodged in there.

"Jesus fucking Christ!**[1]**" He yanked out the sharp slither of glass and tossed it to the side with the others, adding to the bloody pile.

The bathroom was a mess, everywhere you looked glass, blood, and water littered the floor and splattered the walls. The shower ran ice cold while a young man kneeled beneath it, his head bowed and arms outstretched letting the freezing water wash away what it could.

Striped naked, shivering, hurt, and confused, Jack was the poster child for misery. His wrists and the stitched gash on his head were healing but it was obvious they would both leave scars, adding to his already large collection. He dug his fingers into a rather large cut on his shoulder and felt around for the mirror fragment, hissing when sliced his fingers open on it again.

Once the shard was pried out and tossed aside Jack slowly stood up and shut off the shower and snatched a towel from the cabinet. He loosely wrapped it around himself and snuck out into the hallway still dripping wet, though not all with water, and ran down stairs and into Bruce's room, locking the door behind him. He toweled off and threw on some pants and a Tee shirt just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Master Bruce? Is that you?" Alfred called. Jack smiled devilishly and yanked open the door, pulled the older man inside and slammed it shut again.

"Oh my, Jack! Where have you been? Bruce has been looking every where for you!" He straitened out his suit and looked at Jack worriedly as he shifted between Alfred and the door. "Jack, what are you doing?"

There was a click as he locked the door, low chuckles escaping his scared mouth. "What's up Alfredo?" He drew his words out, as if tasting them and licked his lips.

Alfred stood his ground and stared into the younger mans eyes. Something was off about them, the playful sparkle that Jack had possessed during his stay was gone, replaced by a malicious gleam.

Alfred glared. "Your not Jack."

The other man seemed surprised at this, his smile faltering for a moment before returning wider, eviler. "Of coourse I am. Who **else** would I be?" Shoulders hunched, head low, he began to resemble the man he once was.

"I can think of someone." He tried to keep the tremor from his voice. Though he appeared calm, inside he was panicking. If he didn't find a way out of this he knew very well he could end up dead.

"Oh? And who would that someone be?"

The butler remained silent.

"Come oon, say it. Say it nice and loud." The blonde chuckled and licked his lips in anticipation.

Alfred hesitated for a moment, his panicked mind desperately searching for a way out of the situation. Coming up with none, he gave. "Joker."

The man turned his head to the side, pretending to try and hear better. "What was that? I didn't quite catch i**t**."

"**Joker**." Alfred spoke loud and clear, clenching his fists in preparation to battle if need be.

The man threw his head back let out a bark of high pitched laughter. "Such a **nice **name, has a certain ring to it doesn't it?" He chuckled wildly and took a step closer to the panicking butler. "Only problem is, I can't remember him! Nothing, I keep drawing blanks!" His tone was sharp, mad, laced with an underlying desire to harm, maim, kill. He drew closer to Alfred, arms spread out, seemingly in pain.

"When I think of him all I can see is fire! People screaming! But why? Why is every one I remember dead?! What's Arkham?! Why was I tied up?! Beaten?!" He was becoming hysterical, every word coming out louder, more panicked and terrified than the last. They were less than a foot apart now, the blondes hands grasping the lapels of the butlers suit in a desperate, almost frightened hold.

Alfred took a few deep breaths in a small attempt to calm his racing heart before answering. "I don't know." He said slowly, calmly and stared into the others eyes, willing them to back down.

The scared man began to calm and loosened his grip on the older mans suit but didn't let go. He was just about to back off before another question popped into his mind. He scowled and tightened his grip, the sound of his knuckles popping making the other grimace.

"Who's Batman?"

"I- what?" **That **had taken Alfred by surprise.

"Ba**t**-Man." The younger growled.

_A short answer will suffice. _"A vigilante."

"A vintage what?"

"A **vigilante**. One who takes down crime with out the aid or permission from the authorities." Alfred explained.

The other man cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. "You mean to tell me some loser dresses up as a **bat **of all things, and goes out at night to beat up baddies?"

Alfred scowled at the 'loser' comment and clenched his fists. _My charge is __**not **__a 'loser'. Just…a little anti-social. _"About right, yes. He protects this city by locking away those who wish to harm it or its citizens."

"People like me?"

"Yes-no!" To late. It had slipped out, he hadn't thought before he spoke.

Scarred lips fell to a frown, hard eyes became soft, saddened. He released the older man and backed away to lean against the far wall, just beside the door. "So I'm a criminal." He mumbled, disappointment evident in his voice. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, pulling his legs to his chest and hugging them.

"I…I'm afraid so Jack." Alfred sighed softly, pitying the man.

"Don't call me that!" He shouted. Blood began to seep into the back of his shirt from wounds he couldn't reach, the remaining glass slicing further into his skin. "That's not my name, it can't be my name."

"Then who are you?"

"Fuck I don't know. I could be Mickey Mouse for all I know." He mumbled bitterly.

"That's ridiculous, you sound nothing like Young Mickey." Alfred gave a small smile.

There was silence for some short moments, broken only by soft giggling. "You sure? I think I'd make a pretty good Mickey." Just like that, the gleam was gone. Jack smiled up at Alfred, the naïve, clueless man returning from the cloud of misery that had fallen over him.

"I don't think so. If your Mickey I'm most certainly Donald." Alfred chuckled kindly and straitened out his wrinkled suit, a little more than relived that the tense atmosphere had faded away. A though suddenly popped into Alfred's British mind. "Say Jack…what do you say I get Master Bruce to let you out of the house for a bit? I'm sure your getting quite bored."

Jack smiled even wider, if that were possible. He seemed to not notice the sudden re-use of his name and hopped up off the floor. "Aw, gee Alfalfa, you'd go out of your way jus' tah cheer me up? That sure is swell! Ho ho!"

Alfred chuckled and led them out the door. "The likeness is uncanny."

*** * ***

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?!"

"No!"

Jack ran off down the hall ways and returned after a couple of minutes, pain free courtesy of Alfred Pennyworth and his magical medical skill, though he never did find out where all that glass came from. "There!"

"Where did you go?" Bruce asked, eyeing the mucky brown stuff coating his guests arms.

"I threw out the party body, duh!" Jack answered, as if it were obvious.

"You- wait, you what?!" The dark haired man slumped his shoulders slightly, bewildered at the explanation.

Jack sighed dramatically and threw up his arms. "I threw out the dead guy in your bathroom! He was getting all…corpsey."

Bruce stared, slightly horrified at the seemingly small revelation and ran a hand through his hair. "Who was that guy anyway?"

"IDK my BFF Jill." Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "So can we go! Please?!"

Bruce was mumbling to himself. "I-D-K? I-B-K? Burger King? I Burger King?…"

"Yo!" The blonde flicked Bruce's nose in annoyance.

"Huh? Oh yeah sure." Bruce mumbled, not really taking into full comprehension of what he just confirmed.

"Yes! Alfred I love you! Bless your powers of fatherly manipulation!" Jack roughly grabbed the elderly man and squeezed him with all he could muster.

"Please…Master…Jack…crushing…bad!" Alfred breathed sigh of relief after being released and once again straitened out his uniform.

Jack had already dressed, hidden his scars, and was already halfway out the front door when Bruce finally realized what he did. "Wait! Someone might notice you!" He sprinted to the door to see Jack already running down the path.

"Come on Brucey! I'm the Joker! What's gonna happen?!" Jack broke into fits of giggles and was soon out of sight, already heading into the city.

"Alfred."

"Yes Master Bruce?" The butler came up beside him at the door.

"He knows he's the Joker."

"I know Master Bruce."

"He has amnesia."

"I'm aware sir."

"And I just let him loose in the city."

"Yes you have."

Bruce continued to stare, disbelievingly at the city in the distance, the setting suns rays turning it into a mere silhouette against the red sky.

"I'm going to need the suit tonight, aren't I Alfred?"

"I believe so sir."

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTES**

**A special thank you for AmandaSaitou for being my Beta! X3**

My god! I wrote like four versions of this chapter until I finally got it the way I wanted! Jeez! Now **this **is the damn chapter I've been wanting to write since I started this accursed story! **This **is where the real plot begins! Finally! An amnesic Joker out in the city, what could happen?! GAH! I can't wait to start the next chapter!

**[1] **I mean no offence to any Catholics or Christians, but he does have to cuss every once in a while.

**The Cheesy Jokes: **I just came back from a borderline suicidal chapter, I can't just bust out the funnies so suddenly. I'm trying to smooth it out a bit, next chapter will be funnier, freakier, and slashier than this. I promise. ;)

**The Jokers Mood Swings: **Are all part of my grand plot scheme. I will be explained in time so don't think he's just going about at random so I can throw some comedy in there. (Though it does help.)

**There's a missing character: **Can you guess who it is? They were here before, now where are they?


	8. EXTREAMLY IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE!

~ **Important message:** ~

**I will never abandon this story.**

_**I love this story and comes only second to SCBYH in my favorites and I so immensely want to finish it, but I don't have any ideas. This was one of my earlier stories and I only thought out the beginning and end, slowly making it up as I go along. I have a definite ending for this but I just can't seem to find my way to it. I feel that if I try to end it now not only will it end awkwardly but it wont truly be finished. I also need some new gags. Again suggestions are extremely welcome.**_

**All suggestions and jokes/gags should be sent by PM so as to not be revealed to the other readers. **

_**Please forgive me for not informing you all of this sooner but I just been hung up on that annoying little thing called 'real life'**__(Damn it to the eighth layer of hell, yes I know it doesn't exist but damn it anyway!)_

_**A great thanks to all who have read my stories, you don't know how much I appreciate the reviews and love.**_

_**Love and Straightjackets,**_

_**Miz. Jynx **_


	9. In the city, bring a map and antipsychs

Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker or The Dark Knight! But I do own the plot to this story, SO DON'T STEAL IT!

**Warnings: Slash (BoyxBoy relations), Blood, some violence, minor coarse language, minor suggestive themes, and some mild Rachel bashing.**

_Thoughts/Flashback_

**Emphasis/Title**

"Talking"

**The White Devil**

**Chapter 7**

"Do you need a car?! Do you need a **truck**?! DO YOU NEED A **VAN**?! Well come down to **Joe's** **Truck Shop and Van Emporium **and I'll give you the vee-hick-aal of your choice, practically for **FREE**! If your vee-hick-aal isn't the lowest price in the region, I'll snap my suspenders, I'll eat my pants! That's just how **CRAZY** I am!

…

"Do you need a car?! Do you need a **truck**?! DO YOU NEED A **VAN**?! Well come down to **Joe's** **Truck Shop and Van Empo**-"

"STOP! STOP IT ALREADY!"

Jack grabbed a rusty, grease and grime smeared pipe from the ground and whacked the annoying fat man off his milk crate, a satisfying 'THWOK!' and 'CRACK!' sounding from his thick skull. The man screamed and gurgled as he began to choke on his own spit, a small puddle of blood forming where the mans head lay on the concrete. The small crowd of people screamed and yelled in terror at the crazed man wielding the blood speckled pipe and the crying man thrashing and convulsing on the ground, mothers groping for their children and squeezing their little hands a tad too tight in the rush to flee from the violent scene.

"You wanna see how crazy I am!?"

'THWACK!'

"It's vehicle! **VEHICLE**, you fat, sweaty red-neck!"

'THWOK!'

"I DON'T NEED A CAR!"

'SMACK!'

"**TAKE A FUCKING BATH!**"

'WHACK, CRACK!'

Jack panted and shook from his effort while his tired arms, of their own accord, slowly lowered the nasty, bloody pipe to his side. His eyes flickered over the mans body, a slight admiration for the bloody, pulpy slap of flesh that was the mans face shown in his growing smile. People shouted and yelled in the background, sirens screamed over the noise.

Someone actually had the gull to call 911? Didn't they know who he was? No, of course not. **He **didn't even know who he was.

No, no, that was a lie. His name was Jack.

"My name is Jack." Jack introduced cheerfully to the old woman standing by the stop light.

She said nothing.

Jack frowned, and tried again. "Hi," he started again louder this time. "my name is Jack!" He smiled brightly, eager to make himself known.

She remained silent. Rejection hurt, no matter what form it took.

A look of shocked terror suddenly dawned his normally happy face. Jack rushed to grab her wrist, people close by stopped to watch the scene unfold. He paused for a second, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

"By god…" He dropped her wrist. "She's dead." dramatic shock expertly forming on his face.

The small crowd gasped, a few overemotional women let loose a couple of sobs and mummers arose.

"I'm not dead you damn youngin!" She bellowed and bonked the side of Jack's head with her cane. The crowd gave a relived sigh and began to disperse. Jack giggled and threw his arms up in triumph nonetheless.

"She lives!" he shouted joyfully. The old woman mumbled and grumbled as she shuffled off.

"And take off that damn makeup too! Don't think I don't know trick when I see one!" She yelled swinging her cane around.

Jack hopped off, all thoughts of pranks and mischievousness seeping from his oblivious mind leaving only the bitter coffee bean taste of 'tricks' in his mind.

And there she was, in all her pale, skimpy dressed glory. And she was dead.

She was clean, in a sense. No blood speckled her face or clothes, no bruises played on her face, neck, or body. Other than the ones that were already there of course. The only area that shone red, other than her thickly layered lipstick, was right between her thighs. And all over the alley floor. No he had not taken this poor whore, that was just disgusting. Never would he risk life and limb, one limb specifically, on a simple trick. So why so much blood then? Well that was easy.

He had shoved a bread knife up her filthy, sagging clit.

And pumped.

"_How do you like to be fucked with steel you pathetic waste of flesh?!"_

And he pumped.

"_Please, please stop ahhhHHHHH__**GGGG**__!"_

Blood gushed from the gaping hole between her legs, and she cried.

And it pumped.

Helium rushed into the balloon from a tall green tank while a young girl, who couldn't be more than three or four, cried small, sad tears. A curly string was tied around her tiny wrist and at the end of that string, in her hands, was the damp remains of a simple yellow balloon.

Her balloon popped, how sad.

Jack tied off the end of the balloon and added a shiny, extra curly string before walking the short distance across the street to the mourning girl and her distraught mother. The two looked up, confusion and suspicion on the mothers face and nothing but pure and innocent hope on the child's.

He bent down, about an arm's length from the pair, and presented his gift to the little girl. Her teary eyes became wide and a look of pure happiness came over her tear soaked face. The shriveled latex fell from her hands. She smiled widely and took the bright pink balloon from his hand.

"Thank you." She whispered.

He smiled softly and stood up.

"Thank you." The mother smiled.

He nodded and continued walking with out a word, slightly brushing the mother on his way. A block later Jack was still smiling. "I did a good thing."

In his hand, he fingered the smooth contours of the mothers black leather wallet.

*** * ***

"Yeaaah I seen 'im."

"Can you tell us what he looked like sir?"

The scraggily old man pulled at what was left of his beard and hummed a short, old tune. "Mmmhhmm. Tall."

"And…?"

"Brown hair, lanky. Ugly young fellow, nothing like Joey. Joey-"

"Uhh, excuse me sir, who's Joey?" The officer asked, confused.

"Well if ya let me ffffinish!" The old man yelled, showing off his five brown teeth.

The officer shuddered and whimpered, his eyes widening. Spittle was flying through the air, like heat seeking missiles they came straight for the young man. It landed on his cheek and across his lips.

The old man continued to babble on about some army buddy of his as another officer led him out of the room. The interrogator whimpered and stared into space.

"You okay there Todd? You look kinda…I dunno…freaked out." Another policeman, his friend, asked.

Todd let loose a choked sob as tears dramatically welled up in his eyes. "I feel dirty."

*** * ***

"Who the hell is this guy?"

"Probably sum punk tryin' tah get his fifteen minutes of fame, or shame really." The slightly overweight cop laughed at his own stupid joke, convinced it was hilarious and no one but him had a real sense of humor.

"This is no laughing matter." Commissioner Gordon snapped sternly. "It is our job as law enforcement officials to stop crime wherever it occurs, what ever form it takes. It just so happens that it's decided to take the form of a murdering punk and it's our duty to stop him!" He finished his small rant with a sigh and ran a hand through his thinning hair, frustrated.

The fat cop stared wide eyed at the commissioner, his belly sagging repulsively over his belt. "Whoa, whoa Gordy, who shoved the Statue o' Liber-dy down your throat?" Again he snorted and laughed.

"Dowen," Gordon glared at the fat-ass. "your not funny."

Officer Dowen halted his thick sounding laugh and stared, disbelievingly at Gordon. "You can't be serious Gordy."

That was it. That last little string of patients that was stretched across his mind snapped. His face red with anger, fists clenched and shaking with frustrated rage, Gordon lost it. "**MY NAME IS NOT GORDY!**" He shouted gruffly.

Five floors down, a little boy in lost and found flinched and burst into tears at the enraged roar.

*** * ***

Jack turned into the main street and was surprised to find only a small number of people and cars going about. He gazed up onto the tall buildings and skyscrapers, silently wondering if they were as empty as they looked.

_What's wrong? Shouldn't this street be at least a little busy? _He waited patiently for an answer yet was slightly worried he would get one. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he got one.

"_Their all afraid of the dark. Not like us, we relish in it, thrive." _Came the roughly whispered reply.

_This is wrong, Bruce will be angry if I don't get back soon. _Jack bore a look of worry and unease not only because how late it seemed but also how empty the streets were. Every corner he turned came up with more deserted walkways, more alleys disturbingly silent and clean. It was unnatural.

"_Forget about him! He's not your friend, __**I am**__!"_

Jack suddenly felt a rush of anger flow through him. "Bruce **is **my friend! He took care of me and feed me until I was all better!"

"_Like a common __**mutt**__! A kicked dog he found on the streets! Would a __**friend**__ keep you confined to a house for no reason? Would a __**friend**__ keep the knowledge of who you are from you? Just to have you be someone you obviously aren't? You weren't a guest at his house and you never will be! You were a prisoner, a dog kept on a leash by an neglectful master! He probably wanted to keep you as his little __**slut**__!"_

"NO! That's not true! Bruce would never do that! I was a guest, I left and he knows it, he said I could!" Jack shouted this, unaware he'd even begun to speak aloud.

"_You left with his __**permission**__! You had no free will, no way to __**live**__! He even tried to hid you, from __**yourself**__." _Its last few words seemed to drip with thick poison.

"I'm sure he had a good reason to keep who I am from me!" Jack defended.

"_And what reason would that be?" _The voice had stopped screaming and spoke in a eerily calm tone.

"He didn't want this to happen…" He mumbled as he stepped numbly onto another new yet strangely familiar street. Jack gazed wearily at the desolate four-way intersection, at a complete loss on how he got from such a brightly lit part of the city to the dark and rundown side of it.

_How long have I been walking…? _

There was no answer this time.

Jack sighed and felt his anger subside. His exposed arms and legs stung from the small cuts the glass had left and his head was beginning to throb. He took a nervous look around. The area around him was dark and uninviting, seemingly abandoned houses looming over him as if death itself waited within them. Dirty water and unidentifiable muck layered the road and sidewalk he stepped upon, clinging to the once clean white sneakers Bruce gave him.

The place seemed familiar, yet somehow strange and gave out a foreboding aura and with no moon in the sky the night was darker than usual. "I know this place…" Jack mumbled softly, his eyes were glazed over and heavy lidded. He felt as if he could fall asleep right there in the filthy road. He swayed plopped down on a nearby set of steps, not wanting to fall over and hit his head again.

Images of this place flashed through his head like a fuzzy screened movie, making the pictures seem distorted and much to bright. Dulling green eyes swirled dizzily in their sockets while his eyelids fluttered open and closed, worsening his headache. He focused on the pictures in his head, making out two different people. One in a nicely pressed suit and what seemed to be a menacing looking potato sack over his head and the other in a wrinkled and ripped purple suit and clown make up, the one he recognized as himself in another life. The one with the sack was speaking and Jack struggled to here his words.

"_**There are three types of Vu's. Déjà vu, Presque vu, and Jamais vu. I will be teaching you about the third, Jamais vu."**_

Jack clasped his hands on the edge of the step he was sitting on and tried to make out where they were. The image was blurry but he could still see the empty streets, the mucky roads, and the very steps he was sitting on pass by. It seemed they were walking.

"_**Jamais vu is when someone observes a scene or situation as if for the first time, even if they know they have been there before."**_

His other self seemed to say something he couldn't quite hear. The other man nodded in understanding and continued.

"_**Think of it like this: It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger, everything's always the same but nothings ever familiar. You've been there but at the same time its as if it's the first time you've visited. Its hard to explain to someone like you."**_

He saw the purple clad figure clench his fists in offence before the pictures faded, abruptly ending the mans lesson. Jack let his eyes flutter shut and relaxed as his breathing evened out. His grip loosened on the stone step and his body became slack. "So familiar…so why am I so lost?…" He mumbled before drifting into a fitful and dreamless sleep.

*** * ***

"_Sir? Master Wayne can you hear me?"_

Bruce, or Batman rather, reached for the crackling radio and squeezed the button to reply. The static cut off and it was once again dramatically silent on the rooftop.

"Yeah Alf?"

"It's already 4:00A.M. sir. I think it would be wise to come home and get some rest, you have work tomorrow." The elderly man spoke tiredly through the radio.

"Work?" Batman stood there for a moment, pondering the foreign yet eerily familiar word. He frowned, a comical look of horror dawning his masked face. "Damn it! I forgot I had a life!" Batman face palmed and let out an irritated groan. "What about Jack? And that one guy I'm gonna shove in the blender when I find him?"

Alfred sensed no joke in his masters voice and grimaced at the thought. "Not to worry sir, our frightened doctor has not left the premises, the cameras say so."

Batman raised an unseen eyebrow and began the short yet tiring trip back to his car. "The cameras can't talk Alfred, maybe you should get some more sleep. Have you been up all night?"

Alfred pondered on this for a few seconds before nodding, obviously forgetting he was speaking to Bruce through a two-way.

Batman seemed to know this. "Go to bed Alfred. I'll be there in an half hour or so."

He sighed and surveyed the vast sea of bright lights and black buildings, worry and confusing fear for another filling his mind as he looked over every dark ally, every druggy hotspot, every broke down building scheduled for demolition that could possibly hold the cause of his concern. Batman frowned. Somewhere in his city, his arch nemesis was walking around causing trouble, but at the same time, there was an innocent though admittedly mixed up man lost in the streets.

How was Batman to save them both?

**Authors Notes**

Dun, dun, DUUUUN! Am I actually updating? O.O YES! Yes I am! No I'm not dead, and thank you all so much for liking my little story and I hope you all stuck around, I would be mortified if you left! But I wouldn't blame you. I'm very, very, immensely, unforgivably sorry I took so long to update, but that stupid thing between writing and posting(what's it called? Life?) has gotten very out of hand on my part. -_-'

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll be sure to update again as soon as I can, I really will, no year long waits!

Love, Apologies, and Straightjackets,

Miz. Jynx


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